


Care to Make a Wager?

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Making bets, i would title this the bet but i actually already have a briam fic called the bet that's so weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam smiles down at his phone, silently laughing at his idiot of a boyfriend, before texting back.</p><p><strong>Liam:</strong> <em>Care to make a wager Talbot?</em></p><p><strong>Brett:</strong> <em>With the team that’s got those two? U know it. Winner gets a kiss?</em></p><p><strong>Liam:</strong> <em>Loser jumps in the lake by the old Hale house?</em></p><p>-</p><p>For a tumblr request "Brett and Liam, like their normal day without each other (both thinking of each other though), a lacrosse game facing off against each other, and then both of them together for cute/fluff stuff."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care to Make a Wager?

"Mr. Talbot."

Silence.

"Ahem. Mr. Talbot?"

A few students laugh nervously in the background.

"Mr. Talbot."

Brett’s head snaps up from the paper he’s scribbling on.

"Looks like the third time’s the charm. It’s great to see you so incredibly absorbed in your writing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look much like history."

Mr. Johnson plucks the scrap of paper off Brett’s desk, making him wince. Johnson has a reputation for reading notes aloud.   
His eyes brush over it for a second before he drops it back on the desk.

"We’ll talk after class," he sighs, and walks back to his podium to continue his lecture on the civil war.

Brett quickly shoves the paper back in his bag. ‘Liam’ written in various fonts and sizes, with a crude sketch of a wolf in the corner, isn’t exactly something he needs his classmates seeing. 

—-

"-should be able to beat them tonight, easy. What do you think, Liam? …Liam?" Scott knocks his elbow into Liam’s. "Dude!"

"Yeah! Sorry! Sorry."

"What’s up with you?" Stiles demands. "That’s like the tenth time you’ve zoned out of the conversation."

"Nothing. I’m just- out of it today, I guess."

"Clearly," Stiles scoffs, attention going back to his sandwich.

By the look on Scott’s face, Liam can tell he probably smells the arousal spilling off him, but he has the courtesy not to say anything; Stiles would never let him hear the end of it. Besides, it’s not his fault that he’s thinking of Brett. The topic of lacrosse makes it hard to avoid. Brett playing lacrosse, Brett in his uniform, Brett  _out_  of his uniform…

"Liam!"

"Yeah! Right, sorry. What were you saying?"

—-

**Brett:** _U guys r so getting creamed tonight_

The text lights up Liam’s phone, and he can’t help but laugh. He knows what Brett’s doing, but he’ll play along.

 **Liam:**   _That so?_

 **Brett:**   _Yup. Heard u guys might play Stilinski_

**Liam:** _Hey c’mon he’s not that bad_

_**Brett:**  Also heard u might have to play Greenberg_

**Liam:** _…_

**Brett:**   _Creamed_

Liam smiles down at his phone, silently laughing at his idiot of a boyfriend, before texting back.

**Liam:** _Care to make a wager Talbot?_

**Brett:**   _With the team that’s got those two? U know it. Winner gets a kiss?_

**Liam:** _Loser jumps in the lake by the old Hale house?_

**Brett:** _Ur on. See u l8r loser_

Liam audibly snorts at that one.

**Liam:** _Ur such a dork_

**Brett:** _I’m ur dork <3333_

**Liam:** _ <3_

—-

  
In Brett’s opinion, there should be some sort of rule against making boyfriends on rival lacrosse teams verse each other. He and Liam were always good about it, but still. If you win, yay you, but you just beat your boyfriend. If you lost, you were just beaten by your own boyfriend, ouch. That’s where their little bets come in, he supposes. They’d started off smaller, things that, for a wolf, weren’t all that much trouble- minor inconveniences at worst. Now, though, they were beginning to up the ante. 

The lake by the Hale house, that’s a new one. It is, in a word, torture. Brett’s pretty sure temperatures nearly that low shouldn’t even be possible in California. Perhaps there’s an angry ice-mermaid-spirit thing living down there. It’s as good an explanation as any. In summer it’s freezing, and in winter it’s cold enough to kill. Unless, of course, you’re a werewolf. Either way, Brett’s determined not to be the one jumping in.

—-

"GREENBERG!"

Brett can’t bother to turn around, but one doesn’t have to be paying much attention to catch Finstock’s voice, even from the opposite side of the field.

"WE ALL KNOW YOU  _LOOK_  LIKE A DYING SLOTH, BUT MAYBE IF YOU COULD  _RUN_  FASTER THAN ONE, SOMEONE MIGHT  _ACTUALLY_  WANNA DATE YOU ONE DAY!”

Brett doesn’t even bother thinking about the crazy things Finstock yells at his team anymore, all he knows is it’s probably worse than what his own team’s fans yell at them. Finstock is  _weird_.

True to Brett’s prediction, Devonford is absolutely crushing Beacon Hills, with an 8-1 lead. They should probably stop trying so hard at this point, good sportsmanship and all, but they just keep going. He shoots Liam an apologetic look as he intercepts the ball, and scores the ninth goal.

—-

"You guys suck," Liam says, meeting Brett outside the locker-room.

"Actually, you guys suck," Brett points out. "Just saying,” he adds at Liam’s glare, and starts heading towards the path.

"Stiles offered us a ride home, if you want it."

Brett looks like he’s weighing the long walk versus listening to Stilinski whine about losing the lacrosse game. The cold wind that sends leaving swirling around their feet is enough to make him take the ride.

—-

After suffering through Stiles’ constant stream of muttering under his breath, anything from “it’s really just rude” to “is your whole  _team_  made of werewolves?”, they finally pass by the preserve.

"Here," Brett says.

Stiles squints at him in the rearview mirror. “Dude, you take a lacrosse ball to the head or something? Or do you just feel like spending some quality time with the wreckage of the Hale House?”

"Can’t tell you," Brett says, jiggling the handle. "You’ll tell Scott."

"Well now you  _have_  to tell me. My lips are sealed; Scott doesn’t need to know.”

"Even if I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, that’s a lame lie. Now open up."

Stiles glances instead at the oddly quiet Liam. “Is he holding you hostage? Blink twice for yes.”

"Stilinski, I have no qualms about ripping the handle off this door."

"Fine," he says, unlocking it. "But if you kill Scott’s only beta, I’m not gonna be the one hearing about it."

—-

“This could kill me, you know,” Liam advocates, staring into the blackness of the lake.

“Nah,” Brett says, nonplussed. “Unless you get ripped to shreds by some kind of angry lake creature.”

Liam gives him a look.

“The longer we wait here, the colder it’s gonna get,” Brett singsongs. “And as good as you’d look in a wet t-shirt, I’d recommend taking it off, if you don’t want to soak it.”

While it’s sound advice, Liam only rolls his eyes. He pulls his shirt over his head and flings it backwards, hitting Brett in the face.

“Mature.”

“Then don’t date a freshman,” Liam teases, before cannonballing into the water.

He makes an intentionally big splash, making droplets of water cling to Brett’s hair and face.

In the next second, Liam’s up and out, standing on the side again, shivering and blue-lipped.

“See?” Brett teases. “You didn’t die.”

He’s tackled by a mess of wet hair and goosebump-covered skin for his efforts.

—

“Isn’t this worth it?” Brett asks, pulling Liam tighter against his chest.

Liam, who’s currently wrapped in two of Brett’s hoodies and wearing a pair of his overly-long jeans, while practically sitting in his lap on the Talbots’ couch, rolls his eyes.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters. “We could do this anyway.

“But was it worth it?” he prompts.

Liam gives a small, grudging smile, a cross of affection and exasperation.

“Yeah, it was worth it.”

He kisses Brett’s cheek.

“But you’re still an ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at mistletoemccall!


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